Dearly Departed
by ThePhantomsAria
Summary: One-shot of The Phantom/Erik's last moments. R&R If you can.


Erik staggered around his vandalized lair, his music tossed and ripped, beloved organ smashed, no knowledge of where his opera, Don Juan Triumphant was now. Possibly sold to another composer, or trashed as he was, forgotten. Now he had gone into a comatose state; breathing but barely alive, he had no care in the world, he was empty, gone. He walked around now in his lair in an almost pace; shuffling through puddles, not minding that it soaked his once best shoes, in his long boned arms he held tightly to his chest, was Christine's wedding veil. The one he had specially made for only her, now it laid limp in his arms, draped over his long-fingered hands, his swollen lips kissed the hem of it, just like the night long past. The night he had made his object of desire choose between staying trapped with him or to let her suitor, the Vicomte, die at her refusal. It had not been a easy task to withheld, if he were to be see through her eyes and saw the outlook of who he had to stay with and who would die he would have been tormented forever with either one.

Erik was well aware that he was dying; slowly and painfully, of remorse, of redemption, of love. He felt his very core shriveling, wilting like a flower before winter's frost, but he still walked, aimlessly around the shore of the lake. He had no memories to aid him, no images to cling to, only the sliver of emotion it have left him. A cough snapped him from his daze, he looked around, the cough resonating off the walls of the cavern, another one joined in, bouncing from one side to the other. Had he gone mad at last? A tightness pulled at his chest and the coughing continued, he could barely think, his mind was too blurred to realize he was the one coughing. Erik's entire body rattled and racked at the violent fits of coughs he endured, he felt fatigued, so weak, he fell to his knees, the veil floating off to the side as he wheezed in endless agony.

He couldn't take it, no amounts of torture he had been through was like this. Burning tears slid down his malformed face, he started to sob between gasps of breath. A long while went by until the coughing began to fade, the pain in his chest leaving him, but the rawness in his throat stung and leaving him hoarse. He stayed on his knees, hands shaking feverishly as he muffled his painful sobs, he had done this to himself, he had let humanity's prejudice and scorn deform him further, deeper than any scar. His soul was rotten, not because what humans did but what he did to himself as a result. He had become so unrecognizable, so twisted, he had let humanity get the best of him, it destroyed him. Erik sunk to the ground, feeling no more energy to kneel, he laid on the earth, feeling like he belonged there, rotting and underground.

With a trembling hand he clutched the veil back into his arms, holding it close like a child to a precious toy, he brought his knees up to his chest, whimpering quietly. He was so gentle to Christine while teaching her from afar, he had even begun to live in a fantasy, a child-like dream where he could be loved by someone who knew him truly and see beyond his face. And like all children in their daydreams he wished to stay in it and never leave, now here he was, no more make-believe, now he was left alone. A small melody crept into his thoughts, one that Christine had sung before, he had heard such passion and grief in her quavering voice that day that he was almost hesitant of his planned actions. Music was his only way of expressing his emotions, his thoughts, and with a faltering voice he began to sing.

_"Wishing...you..were s-s-somehow h-here..again...wishing...you..were somehow..n-near..." _

Fresh tears pricked his eyes, his once polished and proud voice was now reduced to a cracked, feeble whisper. All his life he had an ethereal singing voice, even at a young age now shattered at his own doing.

_"S-sometimes it...seems..if I...j-just dream...s-somehow you w-w-would be here.." _

The more he sang the more tears fell, staining the veil he gripped in his hands, he couldn't feel anything, nothing. His eyes closed for a moment, they fluttered open once more to hear sweet angelic words made for his ears alone.

_"You are not alone..."_

Erik had no more strength to even lift up his head but he knew that voice anywhere, he closed his eyes for the last time and with a gentle sigh whispered.

_"Christine.."_


End file.
